


Shuffle

by BaconSquids



Category: Seven Psychopaths (2012)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10852725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaconSquids/pseuds/BaconSquids
Summary: This is when billy first meets marty.





	1. Ace of Diamonds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seasonsgredence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonsgredence/gifts).



> this is my frist fic to be posted i hate you @seasonsgredence

Billy is upset. He's always upset, for some reason; has to be a reason. What's the reason again? Right, he's going to a party. It's one of those lame ass wannabe parties with wannabe actors that no (wannabe) executive wants to be in their cast or on their crew. The people here only care about making connections so they can become a big star. It pisses Billy off that he even has to try. He should just be picked up and put on a tv show with thirty seasons. That'd be the life. Not crashing parties where all the people are dead on the inside but lively on the outside. Why is here again? Right. Connections so he can get a job. Get a job so you can get paid. Use the money to buy food. Eat food so you don't die. Right. 

Everyone here is in the same boat: the people that have no money want to make money, the people who have a lot of money want to make money. It's all annoying.

Billy can work with annoying. He’s the embodiment of annoying, at least according to his step dad. He scans the party like any predatory animal, who’s starving because he is, would for someone that stand out to him. When he does, he migrates over to said person and tries to strike up a conversation, repeatedly never going well. No one there knows him so no one can vouch for him. No one can say “Hey this is my best bud Billy Bickle and he's an amazing actor looking for work.” No one except himself, which counts for fuck all. Billy found this out a while ago. When he got yelled at for being worth fuck all.

Maybe he shouldn't have come here. Maybe he should have stayed home. This place is depressing but being at home alone is even more depressing. 

Billy walks over to the snacks and stuffs pretzels and goldfish in his pockets of his hoodie. If he can't get a gig here then he might as well take all the snacks, or rather as much as he can carry. He's tired of going to these shithole parties and not getting anything in return, so he steals the pretzels and goes to sulk on the couch. He can't just leave. Not yet, not until he at least has one good decent human conversation with someone. Whether to get a job or not, he just wants to talk to someone so this doesn't seem like a complete waste of time.

That's when Billy sees him. A man sitting in an armchair all alone, writing of all things, glasses on his nose not paying attention to a single thing around him. Why hadn't Billy noticed him before? Billy stuffs a few pretzels into his mouth as he gets up to sit by the new interesting man. 

He sits on the loveseat cushions closest to the armchair. He stares at the man for awhile, long enough for the man to go through three pages in his notebook. Billy leans forward slightly, "Whatcha writin'?" He asks looking down at the journal then to the man's face. It’s a nice face. 

The man angles his nice face towards Billy but keeps his eyes on the page, continuing to write. His eyes flick up and he squints the tiniest amount. He reaches over to the table for the bottle of Guinness and swiftly takes a drink. "Wut?" He asks, setting the bottle down, half on the coaster and half ruining the nice clean surface of the table.

An accent. Billy wasn't expecting an accent. He couldn't quite place it yet but he's even more intrigued by the man. "Whatccchaa writinnn'?" Billy draws it out this time to make sure the man heard it.

He looks down to his notebook, squinting again, probably asking himself the same question. "Uh." He scratches his head with the edge of his pen. "A screenplay." 

"Ooo" Billy coos, turning a bit so he can look at the notebook. "What about?"

The man looks even more confused. "Who are you?" He asks. Irish. He's Irish. Takes Billy a second but he's a wiz at those sorta things, or that's what he lets himself believe.

Billy sticks his hand out, looking down at his hand instead of making eye contact. "Name's Billy. Billy Bickle." He smiles.

"Marty." He takes the hand and shakes it. Marty. Martin. What a nice name. A nice name for a nice face and a nice grip to his nice handshake. Billy can tell that they are going to be best friends.

"So, your screenplay," he lets go of Marty's hand and points to the notebook. "What's it about?" He asks, smiling.

 

Marty sighs. "To be honest, man. I have no fuckin' clue. I'm just writing my lil ole' heart out until somethin' sticks." He pouts a bit, scanning the pages, the gears in his head turning to figure out what it's truly about.

Billy laughs. Marty is a cool guy. Marty is like him, but better, mostly because he's makin' movies and Billy's here trying to be an extra in one. "Well, maybe something will stick." He shrugs, still smiling. "You look like ya know what you're doing... for the most part."

"Yeah, but I don't have a fuckin' clue," Marty says rubbing his temples then dragging his hands down his face. He's pouting at the paper.

"I don't think any of us do," Billy says tilting his head. "We are all kinda here now. Trying to be us and make a living." Where did that come from? He should be a writer if he can pull shit like that out of his ass. 

"I hear ya," Marty says holding his head in his hands. "I fuckin' hear ya." He reaches over for his bottle and downs the rest of it. Billy watches the way his Adam's apple moves. Then, Marty stands up. "I gotta go. I have a meetin' to go to in the mornin" He gives billy a two fingered salute, the bottle still in hand. "See ya, Bickle."

Billy stares at him. "See ya." He says watching him leave. He stuffs more pretzels in his mouth. There's his decent conversation. Walking out the door. Well, tonight wasn't a complete waste. He's found his future best friend.


	2. Two of Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy is sad. Billy is lonely. These parties are getting him nowhere. He needs friends. Or pretzels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heck heck heck heck.

He doesn't know why he's trying again. Going to these deadbeat parties probably because Billy is a deadbeat. A deadbeat actor that can't get a job because he keeps getting into fights with either other actors or the director. Or a long long long time ago may have had an affair with the executive producer's wife and he caught Billy in the act and then he jumped out a window. Billy is just tired. Too tired to be going to these parties to make a stupid connection. Too tired to make a promise not to get into a fight during his next audition. He's too tired to be here at all. Why is he here again? Right, Connection. Job. Money. Food. Death.

He goes through the motions like usual. He hates the usual. He hates. He's turning into these assholes so dead on the inside, livley on the outside. He needs change. The last time there was change at one of these parties is when he stole pretzels. but there are only pretzel chips, those flat ones next to humus. It's hard to smuggle pretzel chips in the pockets of the leather jacket he's wearing. The hummus looks good too and he can't smuggle that either. Now he's sadder, no pretzels to make a change happen. He groans as he just stalks over to A couch, it's a floral pattern that he's decided he hates. Billy slumps and picks at a loose thread in the center of a rose. In a way that could be symbolic. 

He picks at it for 30 minutes, creating a hole. The rose is no more. Someone sits next to him and opens a notebook. Billy doesn't look up, he's too sad to give a shit. He continues picking at the threads, glaring at the hole.

"Ey.” Billy feels a poke. “ Why are ya doing that?" The person sitting next to him asks. 

Billy forces himself to drag his eyes up to the man. "doin' what." He says. Then it clicks. Hey! Pretzels worked! It's Marty!!! He pops up, sitting up straight and smiles. "Marty!" He grins. "Heeeey."

Marty tilts his head. "uh. Who are you again?" He asks, turning towards Billy, giving him his full attention. Marty closes the notebook, a finger marking his place. 

Billy smiles. "Billy Bickle remember," His smile turns a bit uneasy and he raises his hands up. "From...a party a few months back?" He sits cross-legged on the couch, facing Marty. He wants Marty to be his best friend. He needs Marty to be his best friend.

Marty stares at him for a second, confused. Billy can see the moment it clicks in Marty's head that they actually have met before. Marty's face breaks out into an easy smile, tilting his head a bit. "Right. Bickle. I remember you." He becomes more relaxed, leaning more on the couch. "You're not stalking me are ya?" He asks pointing a finger at him.

Billy laughs. "No! Me? Never." He plays with his hands a bit. "Just looking for a gig. But... Fuck me, is it hard." he rubs at his face, looking down at the hole in the couch. In a way that could be symbolic. 

Marty nods. "I guess it is. I'm just here. Was invited." He rubs the back of his neck and looks around. "Don't want to seem like a depressed asshole so I come to these shit hole parties.” He looks around for his beer and sighs when he realizes he left it on the table next to the chair where he was originally sitting. That means he got up just to see Billy. That makes Billy's heart flutter for some reason. Marty rubs his face and looks back to Billy. 

Billy smiles broadly. “Well if it helps,” he leans down just a touch, whispering as if he was telling Marty a secret. “I don’t think you seem like a depressed asshole.” He says, eyes flicking up to Marty.

Marty chuckles lightly. “Thank you, Billy. Means a lot comin’ from a stranger that don’t even know me.” he stands up and tosses his notebook on the couch.

“Jus’ tryin’ to be friendly.” He uncrosses one leg and hangs an arm around the back of the couch. Billy looks down at the notebook and scrapes at his lip his teeth, eyes going from the notebook to Marty. He wants to read it. He’s gotta. Billy picks it up and opens it up to a random page, scanning it quickly.

“What’re you doing?” Marty asks, standing over him, beer in hand. He looks skeptical and there's the potential of hostility.

Billy’s eyes slide over to Marty. “Curious-ness- ness?” He swallows thickly “You said -last time- you’re writing a screenplay and I wanna know... what it's all about.” He closes the notebook and looks down. “Should’ve assssked.” he taps the cover of the book with his fingers.

“Should’ve,” Marty repeats, holding his hand out. “Give.”

Billy does, keeping his head down. He's an idiot. A goddamn idiot. People don't like it when you look through their shit. Billy gets pulled out of his thoughts when Marty sits next to him instead of yelling at him for being a snoop. Billy looks up at him, confusion on his face.

Marty takes a drink and opens the journal. “It’s about... Well fuck. I think it might be about corruption?” He squints with his whole face and bites the inside of his cheek. 

Billy nods. "Corruption." His finger finds the hole in the couch again. "What type of corruption, Marty." 

“In the government. It's a fucking cliche I know. But it's not just American government, but the whole world. World powe-” He has his hand up symbolizing the world when his phone rings, cutting his story off before it began. It's the generic ringtone that comes with the phone. It's annoying.

Billy now hates that phone, he hates that ringtone. He’ll hate it forever. “Ah. You gonna answer it?” He asks pointing at Marty’s pocket. "Might be important." he hardens the 't' bitterly.

Marty sighs. “I suppose I should.” He digs his phone out of his pocket and answers it. Billy stares at the phone. Then it's not that much longer before Marty’s telling Billy that he has to go. "See ya, Bickle," A pat on the shoulder and then he's gone. Again. Again. Again. 

Billy stares at the space where Marty was sitting and bites his tongue for the rest of the party. His finger digging and tugging at the hole, ripping it just a bit more. A girl tried talking to him at one point. Billy doesn’t even remember what she looks like, let alone what she said. He gets up in the middle of her talking and walks to the front door ignoring the pen that flys past his face and the yells of how much of a dick he is.

He goes home, flopping down on his couch after throwing his jacket in a random direction. Billy lays there for about twenty-five minutes, thinking about life and what it means to be a failure. Then he falls off the couch only to pop up again, eyes wide. Billy grabs his jacket and keys and walks out the door. He's gonna find some pretzels and not the flat, disappointing, shit ones. Real pretzels, only real pretzels. Pretzels can be the solution to this shit day.


	3. Three Of Diamonds

Trains are nice but only if there are a minimum of five other people on the entire train, not forty other people. Forty other people touching him, bumping into him. Billy hates that. He's just trying to go somewhere. Be someplace. And that shouldn't involve people or persons touching him. He’s not going anywhere in particular, just away from his house. Billy needs a change of scenery after keeping himself in there for what feels like three years. (it was only 4 days.) He's in need for some enlightenment, Billy is on the train until someone touches him again and it's the final straw. he moves over to the door and decides that he's getting off at the next stop and if one more fucking person touches him he's punching them. Billy has a love-hate relationship with public transportation. He loves the feeling of getting on a train and not knowing where it's going. He hates it because of the people and their lack of personal space.

The door opens and thank God, not too many people are getting off. Billy slips out of the train car and walks to the stairs leading down to the street and stops at the bottom. Billy looks around for something he recognizes and landmark or anything. He sees a McDonalds but nothing else. He just decides to walk around, explore. If Billy gets super lost he'll just look at his phone or something, it's what GPS is for. If he's lost forever then it's fate, god’s will, or whatever.

He wanders for a few hours, making eye contact with some people then quickly tearing away. He hates those small moments that are intimate with a stranger. You can tell a lot by looking into someone's eyes. You think about their story, who's hurt them and then they look away and you are left wondering. Billy fucking hates that. He wants to get to know people.

Billy sits on a bench and looks over the back of it towards the ocean. He's probably there for a good 30 minutes or so until he sees a girl walk past him with a smoothie. A pale pink smoothie with an orange straw. Billy wants a smoothie now, something to distract himself with for a bit. He follows the girl with his eyes and then stands up to walk over to the girl. He taps her shoulder and by the way, she spins around it probably wasn't a good choice. "What?"

"Uh..." He didn't think this far ahead. "Fuck.." Billy looks past her then down at the ground, trying to collect his words. He sees the smoothie again, he points. "That."

She looks confused. "What?" She asks again, shifting away from him, and looking at him from over the tops of her sunglasses.

"Where did you get it," Billy asks taking a step back, realizing this girl might mace him if he's too close. And he likes if his eyes were not burnt. He tries giving her a smile but the look on her face says that it was not a nice smile, so he presses his lips together. "The smoothie I mean."

She squints at him and looks past him, Billy looks that way too. She points. "over there. By the boardwalk."

Billy smiles. "Thanks." He waves to her then walks to where she was pointing. He sees the fake palm trees and fake sun-bleached fruit on the outside of a stand. There are letters up top that say Smoothie Land and no line. Billy is looking up at the menu on the inside, hands in his pockets when a girl in a head scarf says something to him. He looks down to her. "Wha?" 

She looks tired and young. This is probably just her job for the summer. "What would you like sir?" She asks.

Billy looks back up to the menu. "I have no idea." He mumbles. "What would you get?" He asks, pointing at her, he smiles and she doesn't look disgusted with him like the other girl.

"Mango pineapple." She says, laughing when Billy makes a face. He's never had Mango before "Well, then I guess Strawberry banana." She smiles at him, friendly

Billy nods, he's had that before. "yes. that one please." He smiles again.

"What size." She asks grabbing all the ingredients to make the smoothie. 

"Fuck," Billy says, rubbing his face. "A big one." He leans over the slanted glass a bit to look at what she is doing.

"Large? Okay. And do you want Boba in it, sir?" She turns her back to him, putting the banana and strawberries in the blender.

"Sure," Billy says, whatever the hell Boba is.

Now Billy is sitting on the same bench as before with a smoothie in his hand. takes a big sip out of the straw the girl handed him and almost dies when a slimy ball like thing enters his mouth. He grabs it with his teeth and swallows the rest of the smoothie around it then spits the ball out. "Grooooss." He whines. So he starts to suck up all the little balls to spit them in the trash. Billy just wants to enjoy his smoothie dammit. 

He looks up to see if anyone is witnessing him doing this. Instead of seeing eyes on him he sees familiar black hair and stands up straighter, trying to figure out why the hair is familiar to him. That's when Billy sees Marty's face and all the Boba pops out of his mouth one by one.

He snaps out of it when Marty turns into a Starbucks cutting off sight with him. Billy decides that maybe he wants coffee too.

Billy walks into the Starbucks and spots Marty looking in a journal leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for his order. Billy comes right over. "Marty! Hey!"

Marty looks up, that beautiful confused face he wears the majority of the time. Well only when billy’s around.. 'Wh-" his eyes light up and his confusion turns into a lazy grin. "Bickle. Right? Hey." 

"Hey. How-" Billy gets cut off but the lady calling out a name. "Faranan?" Marty raises his hand and moves to get his coffee. He says something to the lady with a smile then turns back to Billy. "How have you been?" Marty asks.

Billy rubs the back of his neck. "Tired. Bored. The usual." 

Marty looks down to the smoothie in Billy's hand. "Did you follow me in here, Billy?"

Billy looks down at his hand too. "Uh. No." He swallows thickly. "Well I saw you and" he stops and sighs leaning a bit closer to Marty. "I'm kinda lost." He says sheepishly.

Marty laughs. "Lost? really?" He starts walking to a booth. "Let's sit down. Alright, Bickle?"

Billy nods. "Yeah. so what have you been up too?" Bill asks sitting across from Marty, taking a drink of his smoothie and then biting at the straw.

Marty shrugs. "Writing. Y'know." he leans on his hand. 

Billy points at him "Hey you never finished tellin' me your story?" He smacks the table and grins. "I wanna know."

Marty laughs a bit. "Right. which one was I talkin' about?"

"I have nooo idea," Billy says drinking his smoothie, eyes wide as he looks at Marty, expecting something.

"Well, how about you give me your number and I'll give you mine. Then ya know when you figure out what it was I was trying to tell you, you can call or text me or whatever."

Billy grins around the straw. Or whatever. Or be friends forever. "Yeah man." He says starting to dig his phone out of his pocket. He’s probably not gonna remember but at least he has marty's number now. Constant communication with Marty would be good. "That sounds great. So im not left on a cliffhanger."


	4. Four of Diamonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! sorry it took me so long. And that it's so short. My dad has been really sick all summer so i've just been worrying about that. Promise to update soon!

He doesn't know what's going on with him. He can't stop thinking about Marty. He can't and he doesn't know why. Billy wants to know what Marty is doing every second of every day but he doesn't what Marty to think he's annoying. Why does Billy care anyways? He's never cared this much about someone before.

Billy is sitting at home trying to think of anything but Marty. Putting on random movies. Reading random books. Visting random websites. Applying to random jobs.

He can't think of anything but Marty. How's Marty doing? Whats he thinking? Is he cold? Is he bored?

He can't stop thinking of him and he doesn't hate it. When he gets fixated on other things he hates it. How it's always there and he always has to think about it. He has other things to think about. Why is Marty sticking in his head like one of those stupid pop songs that are always on the radio? Not that Marty is stupid, he's smart and nice and wonderful.

Billy smiles at the thought of Marty being here with him. Just here. Not his house but in his space where he knows Marty is okay and has all of his attention. Or a big part Billy has to make sure he keeps the writer in Marty going at all times. He just wants Marty to be happy and successful. And Billy wants to be right next to him when it happens. No matter what. He won't let any shit heads get in his Marty's way either.

Billy looks around his living room from where he's laying on the floor, feet propped up on the couch, and he sighs and closes his eyes. He'll call Marty later right now he has to try and think about something else. He can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck am i doing? please help me also thank you kim i love you and grace too im dead


End file.
